


Bruises & Bitemarks

by phandomsub



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Breathplay, Choking, Dirty Talk, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Hardcore, Kinky, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Masochism, Mildly Dubious Consent, Phan Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sadomasochism, Smut, Verbal Humiliation, forced blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 23:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phandomsub/pseuds/phandomsub
Summary: Dan and Phil have been together for seven years. Their love used to feel so soft and sweet, but now all they seem to do is fight. The insults are getting worse and it's starting to get physical. They both hate it, until they realise they love it.Some pretty intense Phan porn where Dan's never told Phil he's a sadomasochist and Phil had no idea he wanted to hurt Dan like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a quick choking fic but ended up incorporating almost every messed up kink I have. I'm past the point of being able to tell if something is fucked up or not, so you decide.

There was a time when their love for each other was pure. It felt soft and sweet, like pastel sweaters and flower crowns. It smelt of musk and fresh cut grass and rain on a hot day. It was kisses on Ferris wheels and slow, passionate sex wrapped in silk. It was as beautiful as the cherry blossom trees in April, but equally as delicate. It couldn’t last forever, no matter how breathtaking, and eventually the bright petals began to fall away. It left them with what they have now; this murky love. It’s still real, still there, but it’s like wading through muddy waters in search of diamonds. It is tedious shades of brown and grey for miles and seemingly endless waves of hostility and derision. It leaves a bitterness in your mouth that you can’t wash away. It has you questioning why you’re even here, knee deep in this river of carnage, and that’s when you find it – the wonderful, priceless gem. It overwhelms your rational senses for a while; it makes everything feel okay and reminds you why you put yourself through the constant pain. For this very moment. The diamond is incredible but it’s also sharp, like shards of glass in the palm of your hand. You want to hold on to it so badly but the tighter you grasp, the further it cuts into your skin. Soon, you’re torn and bleeding and you have no choice but to let it go. It drops back into the polluted depths and you’re clueless again, trudging alone through all this shit, for what?

They both remember the soft love they shared before the colours began to blur. Sometimes a vivid memory comes to Phil while he’s lying awake at night. Softly, he will ask Dan if he remembers, his whisper hanging in the cold air of their bedroom. During the stretch of silence that follows, Phil looks over at the man whose life has intertwined with his own like wild vines over the past seven years. He watches where Dan lies on his side, back turned to Phil, and counts each conscious breath. Sometimes, on those rare occasions, Dan will answer _yes_ and turn around to face him and the wetness of his eyes will say the rest. Sometimes he tells Phil to go to sleep, it’s late, he’s tired. And sometimes he doesn’t answer at all.

*****

They’re fighting again. The tension has been rapidly building between them for weeks now; even their friends have noticed, but, for the most part, they’ve learnt to stay out of it. There is always some level of bickering between Dan and Phil, so it’s often hard to tell when something is genuinely wrong. Even when they’re on the best of terms they’ll be teasing and stirring the other up. There is a thin line between banter and real, nasty comments with them and Dan is usually the one to cross it first. It used to hurt Phil a lot – how he gives him that spiteful, degrading sneer and calls him stupid, without a hint of playfulness in his voice. By now, he’s grown used to Dan spitting insults whenever he is stressed or agitated. Besides, Dan almost always apologises afterwards, even if it can take a while, so Phil is fairly sure he doesn’t mean what he says. Most of the time Phil just ignores Dan until he comes crawling back and the problem is never really resolved. The rubber band between them never fully loosens, but that’s just how they deal with things. Phil is kind of shit at putting how he feels into words and Dan seems to have this idea that Phil can read minds, so they just fuck instead and then go back to pretending everything is fine. The rubber band continues to stretch and stretch and they just ignore it until, finally, it snaps. And that’s when the dam breaks open and everything is released at once.

 

‘I literally gave you _one fucking job,_ Phil. How the _fuck_ did you manage to screw it up?’

Dan is livid; he’s pacing back and forth across their kitchen tiles, gripping the paper in his left hand so tightly it’s crumpling between his fingers. His cheeks are already flushing with the tell-tale redness that rises with his anger.

‘It’s not my fault!’ Phil says, throwing his hands up defensively from where he’s leant against the kitchen counter.

‘Then whose bloody fault is it?’ Dan says, voice shrill. ‘How the hell do you manage to book the wrong tickets?’

‘You saw how confusing the site was! That’s why you asked me to do it in the first place.’

‘So, what?’ Dan says flatly, coming to a sudden stop and glaring at Phil. ‘Do we just cancel our entire Australian tour because you’re too fucking stupid to book the right plane? Sorry, everyone, but we can’t make it because Phil’s incapable of reading a fucking calendar.’

Dan’s mocking has Phil’s palms beginning to sweat. He crosses his arms firmly across his chest and tries desperately to keep his temper down. An argument is the last thing they need right now.

‘I’ll just call them in the morning, okay? Stop freaking out.’

‘We leave in _three days,_ Phil!’

‘And I’ll sort it out!’

Dan snaps his mouth shut and takes a deep breath through his nose, rubbing at his temples with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand. Phil holds his breath, praying for the bomb to defuse – at least for now. It’s suddenly deathly quiet in the flat; they can both hear the muffled sounds of late afternoon London traffic buzzing outside. With a heavy exhale, Dan tosses the printed tickets towards the bench. They skim across the smooth surface and flutter to the floor.

‘Fine. And check the transport to the hotel is organised while you’re at it.’

Phil’s hands are shaking. He can feel his heart hammering in his ears. He _knows_ not to take the bait. He closes his eyes, takes another deep breath, and counts down from five. Then he opens his mouth anyway.

‘Are you joking?’

Dan’s dark eyes flick up to leer at him, eyebrows raising in that patronising, self-satisfied way that drives Phil up the fucking wall.

‘You what?’

‘I’m not your damn _slave_ ,’ Phil spits. ‘You can’t just order me around, you ass. I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, not your PA.’

‘You’re right,’ Dan agrees with a curt nod and a click of his tongue. ‘If you _were_ my PA you might actually get shit right once in a while.’

‘Shut up!’ Phil yells, pushing himself away from the kitchen bench and slamming his clenched fist against one of the high cupboard doors. The satisfaction of seeing Dan jump in surprise is outweighed by his pulsing rage. ‘Just shut the hell up for once in your life.’

Every inch of Phil’s body is vibrating. He isn’t sure if the tears prickling at his eyes are from frustration or hurt or just from being so _over this._

‘I’m so sick of you blaming me for everything. I’m sick of dealing with your crap just because you’re insecure. I’m sick of fucking _looking_ at you.’

Dan stares at Phil for a moment. His heart races as he watches the tears seep from Phil’s clouded blue eyes and cling to his eyelashes. His stomach twists as they break free and slide down his pale cheeks. He _wants_ to stop this – to apologise, to wipe the tears from Phil’s face, to kiss him until he stops crying so they can forget this ever happened –  but something growing inside him, something dark and sinister, won’t let him.

‘Why do you think I prefer getting fucked from behind?’

The slap is so fast and unexpected that Dan doesn’t even see it happen. His head suddenly snaps to the side and for a second he’s completely numb with shock. Then he feels it all at once; the stinging sensation crawling up his cheekbone, the whiplash in his neck, the throbbing in his lower lip where it has sliced open against his tooth. Slowly, he raises his hand and dabs his fingertips against the open wound. He looks blankly at his fingers, looks at the blood, then looks at Phil.

‘Dan,’ Phil chokes, his own lips quivering and eyes blown wide.

Phil isn’t crying anymore. Dan’s demeanour has lost any semblance of imperiousness. They have said and done a lot of nasty things to one another these past few years, but they’ve never hit each other.

‘Oh, Jesus, Dan. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-’

Dan’s tongue darts out and laps at his swelling bottom lip. His expression is entirely unreadable as his eyes bore into Phil’s.

‘Do it again,’ Dan says; softly, calmly.

‘What?’ Phil stutters, taken aback.

‘I said,’ Dan drawls, voice dropping to a gravelly almost-whisper. ‘Do. It. Again.’

‘I don’t understand…’

‘ _Hit me!_ ’ Dan says, and the force behind his words is so startling Phil doesn’t even think before obeying.

The second blow comes just as hard. Dan can almost feel each individual blood vessel break beneath his skin. He can taste the iron in his blood as it trickles onto his tongue and settles in the cracks between his teeth. His cheek is on fire and it feels _wonderful_. He lets out a shaky breath as he opens his eyes, unaware of exactly when they had closed, and Phil is staring at him. He’s noticing how widely Dan’s pupils have dilated and he looks so confused and scared and Dan just wants to devour him.

Phil lets out a broken cry as Dan pounces. He throws Phil backwards against the fridge and presses up against him, pinning him like a mounted butterfly. Phil whimpers but doesn’t dare attempt to move as one of Dan’s hands grips harshly at his bicep. The other presses palm-first against the cool metal of the fridge door, fingers splaying out beside Phil’s tilted head. Dan ghosts the tip of his nose along the curve of Phil’s jaw and he can smell the dried tears mixing with the perspiration oozing from his pores. He feels the overwhelming need to _taste_ , so he presses his open mouth to the sharp jut of Phil’s jaw just below his ear. It can’t be considered a kiss; he’s just lapping up the taste and inhaling the scent of Phil’s fear. When he pulls back just slightly, there’s a few drops of blood from Dan’s mouth smeared across Phil’s flushed skin and Dan almost loses himself entirely.

‘Dan…’ Phil says on a sharp exhale.

They’re pressed so close together that Dan can feel both of their heartbeats, but can’t tell which is faster or even which beat belongs to whom. He wrestles to anchor himself to the feeling; to hold on to himself.

‘Sorry,’ Dan whispers, letting his hooded eyes slip closed again and rubbing his nose affectionately against Phil’s. ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean – I’m just so…’

‘Dan,’ Phil tries again, swallowing thickly. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want to tear you apart,’ Dan whimpers needily, dull nails digging deeper into Phil’s arm, the stiff material of Phil’s shirt the only thing stopping him from drawing blood. ‘I want to make you cry and I want you to hit me and I just – I want to _hurt._ ’

Dan can feel Phil’s body trembling against his and he wants to hate himself for scaring him like this. He loves Phil, but he wants to verbally attack him with words he doesn’t even mean just to see him cry. He wants to emotionally tear him to shreds and then he wants Phil to knock him to the ground, to physically and mentally degrade him. Phil has always been so soft and tender when he touches Dan, but Dan wants him to bite him and choke him and fucking spit on him when he’s done.

One of Phil’s hands slips free from the cage that is Dan’s body and skims up along Dan’s clothed spine. Dan waits for Phil to gently push him away, but instead those nimble fingers continue up over his collar and into his curls. Dan’s malfunctioning mind conjures a memory from the beginning of their relationship, back when his hair was much longer and straighter, and how Phil used to run his fingers through it to calm him down. He’s busy hoping the soft touch will still have the same effect now when Phil’s fingers suddenly tighten. He grips firmly at what he can of Dan’s short hair and forcefully yanks his head back. The guttural moan that erupts from Dan’s throat is distorted by the uncomfortable angle. His scalp burns from the tautness and he can feel each strand that rips out from the root. His hips jerk forward, pressing flush against Phil’s, and that’s when he feels Phil’s hard cock pressing against his own through the rough denim of their jeans.

‘Is this what you want?’ Phil asks, and the pressure on his vocal chords turns Dan’s grunt into a whine. ‘You want me to hurt you?’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Dan says.

Phil scans what he can see of his boyfriend from this proximity. He drinks in the way Dan’s Adam’s apple bobs when he struggles to swallow, the way his eyes begin to water from discomfort, the way the hues of his face change with the steadily-forming bruises. In a way, he looks absolutely delicious. But this isn’t right, isn’t _normal._ Phil loves Dan, even if it is in this disconcerting way, and you don’t _hurt_ the ones you love, do you? Phil’s face falters, just for a second, but Dan’s eyes narrow and Phil knows he’s seen it.

‘I…I don’t know if I can,’ Phil admits, his hold on Dan loosening.

‘Of course you can’t,’ Dan says, shaking Phil’s hand from him completely and pulling back enough to let cool air rush between them. ‘I mean, it is you, isn’t it? Just little old good-for-nothing Phil Lester.’

‘Dan, don’t,’ Phil says, but his half-hearted plea lacks conviction.

‘What? Don’t _what_ , Phil? Aren’t you used to hearing how damn _useless_ you are?’

‘Dan, I swear to God…’

‘You’re lucky you’ve got a big dick, you know, because God knows it’s the only reason I-’

He’s spun around so quickly that Dan’s socked feet slip on the kitchen tiles. As he falls back against the fridge he hits his head hard enough to see stars. He loses his footing again and if not for Phil’s fists balled in the front of his tee he would fall straight to the floor. When Dan’s eyes refocus, he’s looking directly into Phil’s and he’s never seen them look at him like _this_ before. Adrenaline shoots through him like he’s been struck by lightning. He knows this is a dangerous game, he’s playing with fire here, but it’s a game he’s winning. Phil looks like he’s teetering on the edge between hysterically breaking down and killing Dan without mercy, and Dan needs to know which way he falls. Dan opens his mouth to speak but Phil’s palm is quickly smothering it, silencing him, and Dan’s head smacks against the fridge again.

‘Keep your fucking mouth shut,’ Phil growls, and Dan feels that shiver of twisted pride he gets whenever he makes Phil upset enough to swear.

Dan smirks wickedly beneath Phil’s clammy palm and Phil can see the deviant glint in his eye. Dan manages to pry his lips open far enough to slip his tongue through and, keeping direct eye contact, he tauntingly traces the tip across Phil’s hot, salty skin. He sees the tiny shockwave that sparks through Phil’s body as Dan moans dramatically, the muffled sound sending tingles through Phil’s fingers.

‘Christ, you’re a whore,’ Phil says, disbelievingly.

Phil’s hand unconsciously relaxes at the distracting reminder of just how slutty Dan can be and how _hot_ it is. Dan uses the opportunity to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of Phil’s palm. Phil yelps in pain, tearing his hand from Dan’s bite and glancing at the angry indents left behind. He looks back up at Dan and he can see the desire, the _longing_ in his face, as he waits for Phil to hit him, to call him a slut, to do anything to him, just _don’t stop_. Dan’s lips are parted and panting, they’re swollen and spotted with blood, and Phil can’t bring himself to resist them. He grabs Dan’s head with both hands and smashes their mouths together. Their teeth clash painfully and Dan isn’t even really kissing, he’s just biting and moaning desperately, and he tastes like Phil’s skin and saliva and Phil wants to force him to choke on his cock so he can come in his mouth and make him taste like that too.

‘You…and your fucking mouth…’ Phil says, between what he could only describe as attacks on Dan’s lips. ‘Does nothing but…complain…only happy when you’re sucking cock…aren’t you? So dirty…so fucking dirty…should make you wash it with soap…’til you choke on it… _fuck_ , Dan.’

Dan’s leg has wrapped itself around Phil’s waist and he uses the leverage to grind his clothed, aching cock against Phil’s hip. He’s so fucking turned on it _hurts_ and this is good, so good, but he needs more.

‘All talk,’ Dan says breathlessly. ‘Can’t even stand up for yourself on the internet. How’re you gonna manage to punish me, hmm?’

The effect of Dan’s words is instantaneous. Phil’s hand is back in Dan’s hair, but this time he’s using it to pull Dan along with him as he walks. Dan cries out in that shrill, obnoxious scream, clawing at Phil’s arm, at the walls, at his own hair, as he’s dragged backwards down the hallway that leads to their bedroom. When they reach the threshold of the room Dan is still struggling to steady himself, so Phil uses the lack of balance to throw his writing body towards the bed. Dan’s resistance is surprisingly high and, in an attempt to stay upright, he ends up missing the soft padding of the bed and crumpling to the floor. Dan’s barely had a chance to comprehend the fall when Phil is back at his side, tugging him up on his knees by the collar of his Givenchy tee. He tries to regain some dignity by getting himself to his feet, but Phil just pushes him back down and holds him there by his shoulders.

‘What’s your hurry? We both know you’re worth more on your knees, anyway,’ Phil says.

‘Fuck you,’ Dan spits, glaring up at Phil through his long eyelashes.

‘I think it’s time we put that mouth to better use, don’t you?’

Dan watches intensely as Phil unbuttons his jeans, his crotch directly in front of Dan’s face. His tongue subconsciously darts out to lick at his split lip as Phil pushes his pants down to hang around his thighs. When Phil’s boxers follow and his cock springs free, Dan’s body actually keens forward in want.

‘Shit,’ Phil laughs darkly. ‘You’re damn near drooling for it, aren’t you?’

‘No,’ Dan says, pulling back.

‘No need to lie, Daniel, we both know what a dirty little slut you are,’ Phil taunts, taking his cock by the base and holding it to Dan’s lips. ‘Come on, show me what I put up with you for.’

‘Fuck off,’ Dan growls through gritted teeth, turning his head to the side.

Phil grabs him by his frazzled curls and pulls his head back towards him, pressing the tip of his leaking cock to Dan’s stubbornly pursed lips. When there’s no give, Phil presses his forefinger to Dan’s lips instead and forces it past his teeth. Before Dan has the chance to bite down, Phil is shoving his finger to the very back of his throat, making him gag violently. As Dan dry heaves, Phil hooks his finger in the ridge on the roof of his mouth and drags him forward. He stuffs his cock into the wet, warm cavern, moaning as Dan’ convulsing throat clamps down on the head. Phil holds Dan tightly in place, one hand on the back of his head and the other on the side of his neck, and face-fucks him. He doesn’t slow for Dan to catch his breath or his bearings – he just repeatedly pushes his dick down his scratched, burning throat. Dan is wheezing for air through his nose and emitting these lovely, muffled, gurgling noises that only has Phil’s hips thrusting harder.

Dan is powerless; he can’t even do so much as swallow. A river of his own spit is pouring from his mouth and dribbling down his chin. His eyes are red raw and streaming reflex tears from the force of Phil’s thrusts. It’s hard to tell whether the noises Dan makes in the back of his throat are sobs or moans, but judging by the way he frantically palms himself through his jeans, Phil has a pretty good idea. The visage of Dan like this sends an intense wave of pleasure through his body and as he feels that familiar sensation begin to build he stills his hips. Dan whines in disappointment as Phil steps back, pulling out from his mouth. Phil watches, awestruck, as Dan tries to follow it with his tongue, strings of saliva still stretching from his lips to the shaft. Phil has to grip at the base to ease back his orgasm because _fuck_ , it has been a long time since he’s seen Dan this needy. He needs to see more.

‘Get on the bed,’ Phil says.

‘Make…’ Dan croaks, voice raw, breathing heavy. ‘Make me.’

Phil grabs Dan by his forearm with enough pressure to bruise, revelling in the little gasp of pain as he yanks him to his feet. He shoves Dan mercilessly onto the bed where he lands on his back amongst the unmade covers. Phil steps out of his jeans and boxers and kicks them aside before crawling onto the bed, on top of Dan, and tearing the tee off his boyfriend’s body. Dan’s hands scramble to undo the button and fly of his jeans as Phil pulls at the legs, the tightness of the pants taking both his underwear and socks with them. Fully naked, Dan leans up to grab at the front of Phil’s shirt with the intention of bypassing the time-consuming buttons and tearing it open., but Phil knows his bullshit too well. Suddenly, there’s a hand on Dan’s throat, slamming him back down onto the bed. Phil’s clothed abdomen rubs against Dan’s exposed, throbbing cock as he leans forward to hold him down and Dan moans in a dizzying mix of elation and relief.

‘Don’t you dare, you little shit,’ Phil says, fumbling his way one-handed down the row of buttons of his shirt.

It takes him a while to get it undone as he’s using his right hand to restrain Dan and his fingers are shaking with arousal. Phil has to let go of him to slip the sleeve over his hand, but Dan doesn’t try to move. His chest is heaving and his expression is dazed and Phil can feel the little, latent thrusts of his hips as he tries to find more friction on his cock. Taking advantage of Dan’s temporarily sedated state, Phil leans to the side and grabs blindly at the bedside table. He ignores the clink of glass as he clumsily knocks over multiple things and pulls back the moment his fingers find the bottle of lubricant. Popping the cap, the smell of strawberry fills the air and it seems to bring Dan back to Earth, a small smirk curling along his abused lips.

‘Spread your legs,’ Phil says, shifting his weight to pin one of Dan’s legs to the bed, outer thigh flush to the sheets and knee facing outwards.

Phil steadies himself with one hand resting beside Dan’s head and watches as he spreads his free leg out comfortably, digging his heel into the bed to ground himself.

‘Oh, come on, a slut like you can do better than that. I’d know. I’ve seen it. I said _spread_ them.’

Phil drops the lube and clutches instead at Dan’s upper calf, thumb pressing deep into the tender flesh behind his bent knee. He pushes out past Dan’s inflexible limit, feeling the smooth skin go taut beneath his fingers. Dan’s left completely spread-eagled and on display and he hiccups a gasp at the burn in his tendons.

‘Much better,’ Phil says, letting go to pick up the leaking bottle and Dan’s leg only lifts slightly.

Phil squeezes the sweet-scented lube out with one hand and it’s messy, dripping from his marred palm onto the bedsheets, but he couldn’t care less. He discards the bottle with a flick of his wrist and spreads the slick liquid up and over his long fingers. His cool fingertips trace teasingly along Dan’s inner thigh and over his balls, purposely bypassing his cock, and Phil’s mouth twists with satisfaction as he watches it twitch pathetically. With his legs spread so wide it’s easy for Phil to push between Dan’s round ass cheeks. Dan mewls like an animal in heat when Phil brushes over his hole, the sound going straight to Phil’s impatient dick. As much as he wants to leave Dan like this – spread out, wanting, untouched – it’s not worth the torture of keeping himself out of Dan’s hot, tight body. He circles the tight ring of muscle a few times, feeling it relax, before plunging one finger knuckle deep into him.

‘Oh, _fuck_ ,’ Dan moans, back arching off the bed dramatically.

Phil slides his finger in and out once, twice, three times, before he adds a second. Dan makes an indistinguishable noise as the wall of muscle is forced open and it’s probably too quick but Phil knows he can take it. Phil’s wrist is driving his fingers in to the brim and it’s not the slow, gentle slide that they’re both used to; he pumps in hard and fast, making Dan’s thighs ripple and pretty little _uh, uh, uh’s_ bubble out from his throat. Dan’s bobbing, untouched cock is already spilling sticky strings of pre-come onto his own lower belly and Phil hasn’t even hit his prostate yet. When he slides in a third finger and curls up just that little bit he does hit it, and Dan’s entire body twists with the pleasure.

‘Fuck, fuck, oh God, there, _there_ ,’ Dan babbles.

Dan’s hands jump up to fist in Phil’s hair, an attempt to give himself leverage to push down against Phil’s hand. Phil finger-fucks him harder, the bones in his wrist creaking in protest with the force, and it must be too much, must be overstimulating, it must _hurt_ , but Dan is shaking apart regardless. He uses his hold on Phil’s hair to hoist his shoulders off the bed, just far enough to reach Phil’s mouth with his own. Phil lets Dan kiss him, his mistake recognised only seconds later when sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip.

‘You  f-‘

The hand supporting most of Phil’s weight finds its way back to Dan’s throat and forcefully pushes him back down. This time he doesn’t just press; his fingers curl around the supple skin and _squeeze_ , tight enough to make Dan wheeze as he attempts to draw in a full breath. Phil plans to follow through with his slander, but the way Dan’s eyes roll back in unadulterated pleasure makes his brain stutter.

‘You like that?’ Phil whispers, and he’s not sure if he even has control over his tongue anymore; not sure if he has this entire time.

Phil thrusts his fingers against Dan’s g-spot at the same time as he tightens his grip on his throat, cutting off his air supply entirely. What would be a moan leaves Dan as a demonic gurgle. The sound is so horrific it should scare Phil, but it just has him grinding his cock against Dan’s feverish, voluptuous body. Dan’s fingers leave Phil’s hair and clutch at the dampening sheets beside them. Phil eases his grasp and Dan takes in a rattling lungful of air.

Phil tries his best to keep his weight balanced on the knee that is digging into Dan’s inner thigh –  surely leaving behind a sizable bruise that will last for weeks –  but his fingers are moving in and out of Dan with such velocity that he keeps losing his balance and putting an almost dangerous amount of pressure against Dan’s windpipe. Each time he does, every single one of Dan’s muscles will quake with overwhelming sensation. His chest is burning and his head is spinning and each time he feels closer and closer to unconsciousness. The pleasure Phil’s fingers are giving him is too much to comprehend and the lack of oxygen is making it hard to think and he can’t do anything but lay there and take it. Dan is so deliciously pliant and submissive to his touch that Phil only stops when his face is flushed a dark red and he’s sobbing an ocean of distressed tears.

 When Phil takes both his hands from Dan and shifts to sit between his open legs, Dan only cries harder. His eyes are screwed shut and he seems to be suspended in a higher place. He’s trembling from head to toe and is whispering something frantically under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop._ His neglected cock lays flat against his stomach, the head now a deep, severe purple, and it’s still weeping steadily. Phil runs two of his wet fingers through the pool of pre-come gathering below Dan’s belly-button and it clings to them with the same intensity as Dan clings to the bedsheets.

‘Look at you,’ Phil says breathlessly.

He moves his hand up to Dan’s face, who falls silent and opens his bloodshot eyes halfway to watch. Phil ghosts his sticky fingertips across Dan’s slack, abused lips, revelling at both how wonderfully they shine and how little Dan does to stop him.

‘You want to be fucked so bad, don’t you?’

‘ _Yes,_ ’ Dan rasps, vocal chords seizing up and making him cough pitifully. ‘Yes, please Phil, _please_.’

‘You’re a God damn mess, Daniel, you know that?’ Phil says. ‘ _Look_ at you. Covered in blood and spit and tears. In sweat and your own fucking juices. And you don’t even care, do you? I wonder what else you’d let me do to you, just so I’d fuck you.’

‘Please, Phil,’ Dan begs, fresh tears clinging at his eyelashes.

‘Tell me. What would you let me do?’

‘Anything!’ Dan sobs. ‘Anything. Spit on me, piss on me, I don’t care. Just fuck me.’

Phil grabs both of Dan’s aching legs from behind the knees and hoists them up, hooking them over his shoulders and lifting Dan’s ass from the bed entirely. Dan immediately crosses his ankles and links his feet together behind Phil’s head, holding on for dear life with his weak and tender muscles as Phil sits up onto his knees. He ruthlessly drags Dan down by his hips to fill the small gap that separates them, so Dan’s ass is flush to his crotch. Phil doesn’t bother to try and find the lube – doesn’t bother to slick himself up and check and double check that Dan’s _sure_ he’s stretched enough like he normally would – he just presses the blunt head of his cock to Dan’s hole and pushes in. It’s raw; it burns more than it has since the first time Dan got fucked. It makes his lower back ache but somehow that’s good, very good, because Dan can feel Phil’s most intimate expanse of skin sliding deep inside him with hardly any barrier between them. He feels himself stretch and open up around Phil, and knowing it’s simultaneously making Phil feel so good and making him _hurt_ sends Dan into overdrive.

Phil fucks him hard. Dan’s never been so loud. He’s screaming and sobbing as Phil fucks into him with a brutal force. Phil’s giving him every ounce of strength he has and Dan’s still begging him to go _harder, harder, fuck me harder._ Their bodies slam together with such force Dan’s exhausted legs can’t hope to hold on and Phil can’t stay upright. Their position falls apart; Phil ends up leant over Dan, hands on either side of the brunet’s head. One of Dan’s legs stays bent over Phil’s shoulder and they’ve apparently moved so far up the bed his head is hitting the headboard. Dan isn’t sure exactly when the pain of being fucked so viciously subsides and gives way to the pure pleasure of Phil hitting his prostate over and over, but he wants it back. His toes are curling and his fingers are raking down Phil’s back and his boyfriend is making the most incredible primal, savage noises in his ear, but it’s not enough.

‘C-Choke me,’ Dan gasps, his head lolling backwards.

It takes Phil a moment to decipher the string of vowels that spews from Dan – he’s barely coherent and Phil’s head is swimming. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears and he thinks they may have both just fallen into complete insanity. The words finally register and Phil’s hand finds Dan’s neck again. He squeezes until he feels the first spasm run through Dan’s torso and the feeling is indescribable. Between the sheer rush of power of taking away his oxygen supply and the way Dan’s muscles automatically tighten around him as his body begins to panic, it is the most addictive and dangerous cocktail of sensations Phil has ever experienced. He’s never felt such desire and fear and ecstasy and fucking _hatred_ all at once. It’s like he is on a powerful drug he’s never tried and has no idea how to control it, so he just lets it take over.

Phil’s thrusts are erratic and uneven. His wrist has buckled under the pressure and he’s leant on his forearm and Dan’s face is so close. Phil can see so clearly where his skin Is blotched in a hundred different hues of red and blue. He can see the angry veins rising on the side of his neck, can count the broken blood vessels in his eyes. He can see the birth and demise of each tear as it makes its way down the war zone that is Dan’s face. He’s always thought Dan was breathtaking, from the very first moment he saw him, but this – this is something else. This is something Phil has created.

‘I could kill you,’ Phil says, breath hitting Dan’s face in stuttered huffs. ‘I could shut you up for good right now.’

It’s so incredibly fucked up but Phil’s lost the ability to filter his thoughts and that’s okay, because Dan loves it. He’s trying desperately to thrust up against Phil’s stomach, which has dipped low enough for Dan to reach, and to grind down on his cock at the same time. Phil knows he’s close.

‘I could kill you and use you however I want. No more tantrums. No talking back. Just a perfect little fucktoy.’

Dan tries to say something but Phil’s gripping his throat too tightly again and honestly, Phil doesn’t even care. His orgasm is fast approaching and all his nerve endings are on fire. Dan’s nails claw at his shoulders so hard he can feel the skin bow and break and it only eggs him on further. Dan is convulsing violently and for a split-second Phil panics – how long has he been choking him that hard? – but then he sees the way Dan’s eyes roll into the back of his head and feels the hot, wet come shoot up between them, splattering their chests. Phil keeps moving inside Dan to ride him through it but takes his hand from his throat completely so he can hear the noises he makes without obstruction. In seven years, Phil has never heard Dan make these sounds. He’s moaning and sobbing and muttering something in a voice that sounds like steel wool on glass. When Phil does figure out what Dan is saying it only makes it all the more surreal, because he’s _praying_. Broken fragments of a prayer he probably hasn’t recited since Sunday school are clawing their way from his physically and emotionally defeated being and it should be a fucking _worry_ , because Dan doesn’t believe in God, but it makes Phil feel like one. It feels like those words of surrender and devotion are for _him_ , and it pushes him over the edge. As he comes – cock forced deep in Dan’s ass, spilling his seed inside him – he feels all the malice and anger and tension drain out of his body and mind.

Phil’s orgasm is so Earth-shattering he whites out for a few seconds. When he comes to, he’s collapsed on top of Dan, biting down on his shoulder. Dan barely even has the energy to flinch. Phil just lays there, breathing heavily through the afterglow. He shifts his hips just enough to pull out of Dan, but neither his arms nor his legs are strong enough to push off him entirely juts yet. Dan doesn’t complain.

 

Phil isn’t sure how much time passes or if he falls asleep at some point. He’s just suddenly aware that it’s pitch black and some stamina has crept back into his bones. With a groan, he rolls himself off the bed and stumbles from the room on unsteady legs. He takes his time using the bathroom and wiping himself off with one of the three damp towels he’s left on the floor. He grabs a clean washer from under the sink and runs it under warm water before heading back to the bedroom.

When he returns, the amber lamp has been switched on. Dan lays motionless in the soft orange glow, staring at the ceiling. His face is beat up and exhausted, yet calm. His eyes move across to Phil as he quietly shuts the door behind him. It feels different.

‘I brought you a wet cloth,’ Phil says tentatively, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Just a few years ago, Phil would have begun to wipe Dan down without even thinking. Now, he was never sure what to expect.

‘Thank you,’ Dan whispers, his voice still hoarse and strained.

‘It’s no problem,’ Phil says, holding it out to Dan.

Dan glances at the washer but doesn’t take it. He looks back at Phil and the sheen on his eyes glows in the dim light.

‘I don’t mean for that,’ Dan says.

‘Oh,’ says Phil, and it’s been so long since they’ve had an actual conversation about their feelings that he hasn’t the first clue what to say.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Dan says with a small, sad smile. ‘I just…thank you, for…for doing that for me.’

‘Well, it’s not like it was any kind of inconvenience to me.’

‘That’s not the point.’

Phil really doesn’t know what to say to that so they fall into silence for a while, listening to the never-ending traffic rattle on outside. Dan is the first to break it.

‘I love you.’

He’s heard it a million times, yet it makes Phil’s chest swell to hear it now. It’s not being used as a distraction. It’s not being used as a baited hook. It’s as thrilling and heavy with emotion as the first time he said it.

‘You know that, right?’ Dan continues. ‘You know I don’t mean the things I say sometimes.’

‘Don’t you?’ Phil says, because he’s always told himself that, always hoped, but he’s never been sure.

‘Of course I don’t,’ Dan says, and he sounds so desperate. ‘You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met in my life. I love you more than I ever thought possible and if you left I don’t know what I-’

Dan stops, rubbing his blaring eyes firmly with the back of his hand.

‘I love you, too, Dan.’

Dan sniffles softly as Phil scoots closer to him. He’s not good with words, not like Dan. The best he can do is start wiping down Dan’s body with the washer.

‘I don’t see why, what with me being such a royal cunt,’ Dan laughs flatly.

‘It’s true,’ Phil says, smiling softly as he delicately scrubs the crusted mess from Dan’s chin. ‘But you’re _my_ royal c-word.’

Dan laughs, legitimately laughs, at the sudden return of Phil’s censored vocabulary. In the short flash of unabashed happiness, Phil sees the stupid, young boy he fell in love with what feels like a lifetime ago. Their eyes lock and they smile fondly at one another and it’s the oldest thing the both of them know, but it feels brand new.

‘Speaking of words,’ Phil says, breaking the spell and moving the cloth down Dan’s chest, ‘I think there’s something serious we need to discuss.’

Dan’s content smile falters and his brown eyes dart worriedly between Phil’s.

‘What’s that?’

‘Well, if this half killing each other while we have sex thing is going to continue, we’re gonna need a safe word.’

*****

There was a time when their love felt soft and sweet. Now, it’s hard and rough; It’s never-fading bruises and permanent bitemarks and the lingering taste of blood. And they’ve never been happier.


End file.
